


epistolary

by daedaliaaan



Category: Inazuma Eleven
Genre: Can be read without any background knowledge, Epistolary, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Original Character(s), POV First Person, POV Original Female Character, Romance, Romantic Fluff, eventual angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-05-07 15:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19212304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daedaliaaan/pseuds/daedaliaaan
Summary: ❝This is it, Axel. The shoebox and these series of letters. The epistolary of our love. And I'm giving it to you for yours to keep.❞





	1. Dear Axel,

**Dear Axel,**

It's been a long time, has it? It has almost been two months, Axel. Two months.

It's a wonderful, sunny day, but my skies are dark and gloomy. How could I enjoy today when you aren't here with me?

I hope you're somewhere better now that you're gone. Someplace beautiful and peaceful and safe, just like you said you wanted. It was a dream you shared with me, hoping it would come true so that together we could live in it in each other's embrace. But I'm afraid you had to go too soon before we could make that dream into reality. I'm sorry I have avoided you since that day. I couldn't bear the fact you are no longer here with me. So I decided to do this.

I'm writing you a letter. Letters, in fact. A series of letters I'm writing just for you. They say it's called an epistolary, Axel. Did you know that?

I'm giving you this first letter for you to keep. Along with this letter, you will find a blue shoe box. I found it somewhere inside my closet with an old pair of dusted black Converse sneakers. When I saw the box, I grabbed it and threw the shoes away. I dumped every little treasure of our memories kept all of this time deep hidden in my many drawers. Every single thing, Axel.

The blue pen. The pressed flower. The locket. The movie tickets. The paper airplane. The Polaroid. The conch shell. The key chain.

Inside this shoe box will seem like meaningless junk to those who do not know you and I, Axel, but what lies in this box are special. Somethings special with too much meaning I can't live with anymore but can't let go of either. Inside this shoebox are the little parts of us; the shards of our past, present and unobtainable future.

Inside this shoe box is the story of our love. I'm going to write about every single trinket placed securely inside this box for you. I'm going to describe us in my own perspective - through my own two eyes you seem to love so much - and the twists and turns of our adventure. And when I'm finished, I'm going to seal it away forever. I'm finally telling you our story that I can no longer keep to myself without causing me more heartache. I'm telling you the reasons why I love you so goddamn much.

This is it, Axel. The shoe box and these series of letters. The epistolary of our love.

And I'm giving it to you for yours to keep.

**Love,** **Amy.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are very welcomed.
> 
> do follow me on wattpad and tumblr, @daedaliaaan.
> 
> hope you enjoyed.


	2. On the lid of this shoebox is a quote.

**On the lid of this shoebox is a quote.**

Do you recognize it, Axel?

**_"Come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned."_ **

Of course, you remember. The 1953 version of Peter Pan. I'm writing this letter on my bed with the lid as my desk with Peter Pan softly whispering through the speakers of my laptop so I can feel like you're with me while I write each word. I keep shifting my leg because I get cramps easily so please forgive my shitty handwriting.

I remember us watching Peter Pan together on TV with your little sister Julia in the living room of your house. I was there to help you babysit your sister since your father was out of town for a few days. We were seventeen that day and Julia was ten. After washing the dishes, Julia was already seated on the sofa with her the peach teddy bear you had gifted her once, her innocent doe-like eyes staring intently at the screen. Suddenly familiar voices spoke from the screen, Wendy and Michael and John and Peter Pan. A smile adorned my face when I heard the soothing instrumental music as I placed the plates on the top shelf above the sink.

"Why are you smiling like that?" you asked me with a curious tone in your voice, your eyes looking straight at mine.

You had your hair held back with a hairband into a small ponytail - unlike your usual gelled hair - and you wore a plain white baggy shirt and training pants. You were standing awfully close to me I could smell the fresh scent of your cologne and your warm breath blowing on top of my forehead as you spoke.

"Like what?"

"Like that."

I decided to play around with you. "Be more specific, Axel."

"You're smiling that smile you have when you're truly happy."

I laughed and leaned back on the kitchen counter, ignoring the fact my sleeves were sticking onto my skin from the wetness of the kitchen sink. "Peter Pan," I said, nodding my head to where the TV was perched on the wall, "is one of my favorite classic Disney movies. I remember my dad introducing it to me when I was only a little girl, telling it to me as a bedtime story of flying and pirates and fairies and never growing up. When he showed me the movie, I was instantly captivated. I've always loved the idea of Neverland. A place where dreams come true and time is limitless. Imagine; to never grow up, to be a child and play around without bearing the responsibility of an adult?"

"That does sound magical."

"My dad said that too. He told me how he sometimes doesn't like to be an adult. Same goes for mom. It's tiring and overwhelming and sometimes they wish they could turn back time. They tell me to treasure my childhood because once that's over we can't go back."

"You know, now when I think about it, I've never actually seen it before," you told me, and my jaw dropped.

"No way."

"Yes, way."

"Oh, god. Why am I even dating you?"

"What the - that hurt,  _liebe_."

"You sad, sad young man." I over-dramatized, placing a hand on your shoulder. "To never have had the pleasure of knowing Peter Pan and Captain Hook and Tinkerbell!"

"I do know them, I'm not an idiot," you argued, but from the glint in your eyes told me how playful your words were. "I just never bothered to watch it. I had no reason to."

"Well, now you do!" I excitedly replied, pointing at myself. "Let me be your reason. So come with me, where dreams are born and time is never planned!"

My hand shifted towards your tanned hand and grabbed it. I squeezed your palm tightly before pulling you with me as I made my way out of the kitchen and into the living room to join Julia.

At that moment came the scene where Peter Pan had sprinkled pixie dust all over Wendy, John, and Michael as they soared through the night sky with gleeful looks on their animated faces. My face brightened and I pulled you down onto the sofa with me as Julia started to skip around the room with her teddy bear above her head, imitating the flying scene in the movie.

"Big brother, look! I'm flying!" Julia squealed in her childish voice, maneuvering her way around bookshelves. I finally had a good look at her, and somehow yellow glitter was stuck on her hair and dress as if it were pixie dust.

"You sure are, Julia," you agreed as you finally made yourself comfortable on the love seat and slung an arm behind my shoulders. "Why do you even have yellow glitter all over you?"

"It's pixie dust! Tinkerbell sparkled them on me so I can fly!"

"All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie dust, after all," I said, my eyes glued towards the screen, bringing my knees to my chest. You grinned and pulled me closer, your eyes following mine and landing on the TV screen.

"Well, off to Neverland we go, right Amy?"

For an hour we sat there together with Julia sprawled on the floor on her stomach, watching Peter Pan. The house was filled with our laughter and smiles and I was more than happy to be able to share that moment with you. I don't know if you noticed, but I kept stealing glances at you throughout the entire movie, watching you secretly as you let yourself enjoy the movie with a soft smile on your face. It made me joyful to know I can make you smile like that.

And that day was one of the days I love you so goddamn much it almost makes me cry when I think about it now.

**The girl who took you to Neverland,** **Amy.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are very welcomed.
> 
> do follow me on wattpad and tumblr, @daedaliaaan.
> 
> hope you enjoyed.


	3. There's this blue pen you gave me.

**There's this blue pen you gave me**.

The ink is still there after all this time, Axel. Amazing, isn't it? I've always been rather obsessed with this pen. Maybe it was because it felt comfortable in my grip. Maybe it was the gel tip I loved so much. Maybe it was because of the pretty shade of blue it had. Maybe because it was you who gave it to me. I don't know. It seems stupid to be so attached to a pen. And yet I still love it.

I remember when you gave it to me. April 25th. The first few weeks of the beginning of the school term and we had never exchanged anything beyond a "hello", "good morning", and the occasional "what's up?" It had become a habit for both of us due to our assigned seats at that time.

Every morning we'd greet each other. You were always the first one to arrive; naturally, you greeted me first when I arrived a few minutes later than you. Sometimes, I'd start, when you were too lost in thought, and you'd give me a nod of acknowledgment. And when school ended, you were the first to leave. Either it was for soccer practice or homework, you'd make sure I am there for you to bid me a short "goodbye". And I would always reply.

Nothing more, nothing less. Just a repetition of the same old words, but it felt special in a way. It meant you had acknowledged my presence, and I am now an acquaintance of some sort. And we kept our distance, kept our boundaries. I didn't bother you, you didn't bother me. I'd pass you a paper or two, and you'd nod in thanks. Simple.

It was in history class did we break our tradition with something different. Another different set of words were exchanged rather than the usual "hello".

I'm shit in history, as you know, I'm a very forgetful person. I could remember the lyrics to that one annoying toothpaste commercial on TV yet forget about the two-page book summary of some historical novel that's due the next day. So there we were, the spring breeze softly whistling through the open window beside me as the class worked on the assignment. It had started with our routine; the boy in front of me would pass me the stapled worksheet, and I passed a copy to you. A silent thank you was what you gave me along with the usual nod in which I replied with a hum.

Did I ever mention I'm shit in history? Yeah. I forgot what the sheet was about. I was struggling, desperately looking around in hopes that the dull white walls around me would sing out the answers to my questions. Wasn't my fault I was sick the night before and couldn't study. You, on the other hand, were focused. Your hand kept on moving robotically as you jotted down answers you probably had memorized on the back of your head the night before. I'd be lying if I said I'd never been jealous of your intelligence.

Out of twenty questions, I had only filled in barely half of it, deciding on doodling along the edges of my paper. A small spiral, a scribble of a rose and a tiny Pikachu slowly filled the page until my pen died and my spirit along with it.

"Shit," I whispered under my breath, hopelessly scribbling the half-written paragraph on my paper with the dead pen. Useless piece of plastic. I swore to never buy that specific brand ever again.

I'm also an idiot. An impatient idiot. I had been rather annoyed at the cheap pen that had decided to bail me when I actually needed it, so I jammed the tip onto my desk repeatedly, and  _pop!_  My pen collapsed into pieces, rolling off my desk and onto the floor, scattered.  _Fuck._ I looked around, almost heaving a sigh of relief that no one noticed (not even the teacher, the dense fool) until I heard a snort beside me. And yeah, it was you.  _Fuck_ _._

Was it a snort of laughter or one of sarcasm? I'm never going to find out now. But I had to admit I was embarrassed to see you noticing my stupid behavior; judging from the lack of surprise when you turned to face the paper filled with meaningless doodles on my desk meant that you had known of my struggles all along. Your eyebrow was raised in a questioning manner as you fought back any expression on your face, deciding on a sigh before turning away. I kept my eyes away from yours and faced my paper, mentally slapping myself for ruining the only usable pen I had with me at that time.

"Take mine."

I turned to you. You had shifted in your seat - bending yourself ever so slightly to avoid the teacher from looking - a simple looking steel pen with a baby blue hue in your grasp. I made a mistake of looking right at you into your eyes; pulling me in, inviting, warm. I gulped as you kept staring back as if it was a staring contest. We had never made that much eye contact before. It made me feel sweaty and nervous and like my heart was going to burst in my ribs.

I had decided to stop staring, breaking eye contact. But I could still feel your eyes on me. Always looking at me. "Take mine," you pressed gently. "It's a good pen. And it won't break."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't be offering it to you if I wasn't being real," you said. "And besides, I consider this pen pretty lucky. Maybe you'd do better on your paper with this. Works miracles for me."

You had said so much more than I've ever heard you speak. I accepted the pen, the tips of our fingers brushing against each other in the process. "Thank you."

I could still feel the warmth of your hand on it. You kept your eyes on mine for a while before returning to your own worksheet, already lost in thought. And I, to my own paper, a small pull tugging on my lips, knowing that you had noticed me. I ignored the fluttering feeling inside of me that was about to break free, pulled the cover and started writing. It might seem like a simple, meaningless gesture at that time, Axel. But for me, it meant something. Something.

**Your hopeless classmate,** **Amy.**

P.S. I don't think I've ever gotten to tell you how much I got on that paper. An eighty-eight. Not too shabby, huh?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are very welcomed.
> 
> do follow me on wattpad and tumblr, @daedaliaaan.
> 
> hope you enjoyed.


	4. I'm giving back these earphones.

**I'm giving back these earphones.**

The first time you ever shared your earphones with me was when we were taking the train home from school.

I could see the aftermath of rain: raindrops on the glass and the dull grey sky slowly falling apart into one where the sun shined through, you with your blazer and me in the pale blue cardigan I sported that day. The soft pitter-patter of the remnants of the early rain trailed down my face as I hurried my way downtown to catch the train. The train had been full on that particular day, as I squeezed myself in you caught my eye with your platinum blonde hair. Your hand hooked up in one of the handrails and the other in the pocket of your blazer, looking so good without trying. You looked so unreachable at that time. No, you always look so out of reach for me, Axel, so out of my league. Even until now, despite your exasperated argument against the idea.

You are basically everything above me. You have lots of friends, unlike me. You are pretty tall and have broad shoulders. This explains the fact that you're a soccer player. You talk to your friends with such ease, and then there's me. Rambling on about nothing until I came to an abrupt halt because I realized how ridiculous I sound. You are, by all meanings of the phrase, out of my league (even now, as I write this, I still think you're on a higher level than me).

"Amy," you called out, your head cocked to the side. "Hey."

"Hey," I approached you, naturally. You looked so brilliant at that time; it was like looking at the sun and burning my eyes from the light. "I didn't know you took the train home."

"I always do," A strand of hair fell on your forehead and I resisted the urge to push it away for you. "I've never seen you use this train before."

"Ah, about that, my dad couldn't pick me up today, so the train was the alternative."

"Oh."

"How about you? Soccer practice?"

"Yeah. We have a tournament next Saturday."

"Oh?" I knew about your tournament, of course. It was impossible to  _not_  know; with how the entire female population of our school was hysterical about it. "Against whom?"

"Kaisei Academy. Surely you've heard about it?"

"Yeah. Pretty neat."

Heavy rain of silence washed over the two of us; a pregnant pause and neither of us met the other's gaze. I bit my lip, fiddling with my keychain with calloused fingers and scuffed a sneaker onto the floor. You turned your head away to gaze out the window, observing the scene unfolding as the train zoomed past, raindrops sliding down the glass. My shoulders hunched and jaw tightened as a small bump of the train made me stumble towards you. You made no sound of discomfort of my position - our arms almost touching - instead, you leaned closer and I could smell the faint whiff of your cologne.

"Amy."

A hand outstretched - an earbud between your thumb and forefinger - the other placed in your ear.

"Take it," you stated, your other hand already busy with your cell phone.

"Why?" I knew exactly why. You are intelligent, Axel. Even so, it did not take a genius to sense the thick cloud of awkwardness in our silence. You knew, so you avoided my eyes and shoved the earbud into my right ear gently, your fingers a fleeting touch on my skin. You never answered my question. But your warm presence and the small buzz of your cellphone indicated your willingness to approach me as a friend, and it made me happy. I tried not to let myself smile as you eventually chose a soothing song, a soft bass beat and guitar playing harmonized together.

"Wow," I said, fighting back the grin threatening to surface. "I honestly didn't expect lo-fi. That's like, my jam. Wait, I think I can see a guy like you getting really into this. I'd peg you for a soul enthusiast and a bit of R&B."

"A guy like me? You make me sound so alien." you raised your chin up as if you were offering a challenge. "What kind of a guy am I for you, Jackson?"

"Well, Blaze, you are very calm and chill," I started, occasionally tapping my foot to the beat. "You're definitely chill enough to get this kind of music. Despite your name, you are the definition of cool _,_ but you have a blazing fiery attitude. Besides, you strike me as someone, ah, unreachable."

"First of all, did you just make a dad joke out of my name?"

"Yes."

"Jesus, Amy." you shook your head, a chuckle escaping your lips. "Though you got my genres right. I like Daniel Caesar,"  you confessed. You quickly regained yourself and asked me what I meant by "...unreachable?"

I became silent, aware that I had spoken my mind out loud. There was no turning back, so I opted to tell you the truth. "You are unreachable for me, Axel. You are very different from me - better, in fact, in every single aspect. I look up to you and can't help but feel inferior somehow. You are so out of my league.

"And every time you show me a small act of kindness I can't help but want to get to know you, y'know? I see you with your friends and pathetically think, what it'd be like if we were friends. But hey, you deserve better. You're the golden boy and I'm just me. Boring, old me. Sometimes I wonder why you even bother to talk to me or anything, or why you gave me your pen."

"God, no."

"No?"

"There's a reason why I  always greet you in the morning and lent you my pen," you sighed. "I don't care about being popular and all because I'm sure as hell I'm not much better than you think. You are different than everyone else, and that interests me. There's something about you that makes me feel content. Whatever it is you think of me, cast it away. I have my flaws, Amy, and I am certain you are better in other things I am not."

"Hah. Sure. And they tell me pigs don't fly."

"Trust me. If you put me on a pedestal, I'll eventually disappoint you." you heaved another sigh, eyes looking right into mine intensely. "You don't have much confidence and trust in yourself, do you?" 

"No shit," I muttered to myself, but I assume you heard me that time as you gave me a sharp look.

"Trust me, Amy." There is a slight pull of your lips, a faint twinkle in your eyes. "You and I are not that different. How about this; let's get to know each other more. Starting off by attending the soccer tournament."

Hesitantly, I asked. "Okay, why should I?"

The sky was light pink as the sun started to set. Your eyes were searching as you looked at me though I wasn't sure what exactly you were looking for and your words took me by surprise. "Well, friends support each other, don't they? I expect you to be cheering on for me. I'd be disappointed if you don't."

"Oh, wow. Um. You're being serious."

"Yes. Is it showing?"

"Yeah. Very." I became nervous all of a sudden from everything. Overwhelmed by your sudden invitation of friendship, the slight smile on your face and the whispering music fleeting from the earbud. "Well, as a friend, I can't say no, can I?"

You gave me a sharper look when I finished my sentence, challenging me once more to deny you, making me crack a ridiculous smile of joy. "Okay. You are definitely going to see me cheering for you. With pom-poms and all."

"This is a soccer match, Amy. Not rugby."

"Oh yeah. Well, what about a shirt with your name on it?"

I wanted to slap my face for sounding so weird. It makes me slightly cringe now that I'm thinking back on it, knowing that the exact shirt is still hanging neatly somewhere in my closet. It made me sigh in relief when you rolled your eyes and a laugh escaped your lips, your entire face bright as the setting sun. "Oh, will you? That'd be great. You should design your own shirt. I know that you're into drawing, and if I'm not wrong, digital art is the bane of your existence."

"You know me pretty well already for a guy who just offered me friendship. Let's make a deal. You shoot a goal tomorrow for me and kick ass, and I promise to be at all your tournaments wearing the same shirt with your name plus face on it."

"Deal," and we shook on it. 

We shared a laugh as you placed a friendly hand on my shoulder and kept it there for the entire ride; an act I never thought would come from a guy like you. I've always thought you weren't one for physical contact, seeing how reserved you act around people.

But I've learned that you're full of surprises, that everything I've ever thought of you was only pieces of the complete truth. I've learned that I could never expect your reaction to any kind of situation. You are everything else and more than I've ever thought you would be.

And I enjoy unfolding the mysteries of you, Axel Blaze.

**Your friend,** **Amy.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are very welcomed.
> 
> do follow me on wattpad and tumblr, @daedaliaaan.
> 
> hope you enjoyed.


	5. I was entranced when I first saw you on the soccer field.

**I** **was entranced when I first saw you on the soccer field.**

As I promised, I came to your soccer match on Saturday.

I arrived one and a half hour early; afraid that I wouldn't be able to get myself a seat. The stadium was nearly full by the time I got there. To say that I was excited was an understatement. I remember the overwhelming enthusiasm bubbling inside of me as I scurried to get through the turnstile and climbing up the stairs. The atmosphere was electrifying and tense as I stepped foot into the stadium; supporters of each team wearing the colors of the strip of their team. The stadium roared from so much vocal support of the spectators' loud cheers and whoops of thrill.

It was hot and humid back then, the sun roasting us all in an unforgivable heat; my shirt pressed uncomfortably like a second skin and my hair was in disarray. I was more than grateful to have snagged a single empty seat on the third row that gave me an excellent view of the field. I was also grateful to have managed to grab myself a bag of that salty stadium popcorn you got me into liking from the vendors outside.

The match began twenty minutes later than the promised time; I spent the duration of ten out of twenty texting you. You had asked me whether I had arrived at the stadium – which I replied a yes to – and every reply triggered another series of messages, so on and so forth. For a man of few words, you sure did text a lot. You had so much more to say in every spam of messages compared to the words you speak aloud sometimes.

If I bothered to scroll through my gallery right now, I could probably find the picture you sent me; you and your teammates in matching uniforms and adrenalized grins (except for you, of course, your face screaming focus and determination like always whenever you were about to go into the field). The picture was bright. I recall a background of rows of rusty lockers and a scribbled whiteboard (that I assumed was notes on your team's strategies) along with you and your team hunched together with arms around each other. The picture was blurry, with you struggling to keep the camera up high as your friends scuffled to fit into the frame, shoulders shoving one another playfully.

"Make this worth my time, Blaze," was the last text I sent to you.

"Better keep your eyes on me, Jackson. The last one's for you," was your reply, and I snorted aloud. I could easily imagine the cocky smirk on your face at your remark. But I never did take my eyes off you, Axel.

I was never really cultivated in the art of soccer. Exactly three days nearing the match, I had stayed up late in bed doing tons of research in hopes to genuinely understand the sport once I was on the bleachers cheering you on. I've always loved how impressed you were of me whenever I could hold a decent conversation about soccer with you, may it be criticism for foul play or technique observations and despite the mixed up facts and mistakes I would make occasionally, the proud look on your face never disappeared.

You never cease to amaze me, Axel, especially when you were on the field. I was immediately awed at the sight of you carrying yourself confidently as your blazing speed tore the field asunder; leaving your rivals speechless in frustration as you drove the ball straight into the goal without any hesitance. You played swiftly, focusing on your surroundings and never keeping the ball to yourself. Anyone could see your fiery passion and love for the sport whenever you kicked the ball.

The crowd went wild with each shot you delivered, especially the very last goal you promised me you'd make. You pumped a fist up into the air and yelled in victory before you were roughly tackled onto the grass by your teammates. The last goal encouraged the loudest cheers of the day including mine as I excitedly jumped onto my feet and joined in the screams with my own, dumbly hoping that maybe you could hear me through the booming noise. You were just so fucking cool. Ever since then I've been your biggest fan, Axel, as embarrassing as it sounds. It's funny how you enjoyed having me as your fan when you had a thousand other girls screaming your name.

I remember waiting outside on my own as the crowd faded into quiet, waiting for my dad to pick me up. I fiddled with my phone, reading and re-reading our texts post-match, hoping that you had texted me something. I managed to send you a congratulatory text with a smiley face you had left on read, and I tried my best not to feel disappointed.

That was when you approached me with your customary "hey". You had changed out of your uniform for a loose black and red striped shirt and jeans, hair wet from the shower you must've taken before you went out. I have to confess, even though I had not developed any sort of crush on you at that time, I found you highly attractive with the dripping water and fitting shirt on you.

"Sorry I didn't reply to your text earlier," you began. "I hope that was okay with you. I was changing."

"Oh, don't worry about that," I exclaimed, shaking my hands in front of me, my previous disappointment went with the wind as soon as you apologized. "You're here now! I just – anyways, congratulations on your victory! I'm happy for you and your team. You were amazing."

"Thanks, Amy," you huffed a short laugh. "I hope you saw the last goal."

"Of course, how could I miss it?" I beamed at you. "The goal you said was for me."

"I'm glad you liked it. Did you hold your end of the promise?"

"I came didn't I?"

"The other promise, Amy, the shirt?"

"Ah, yes," I suddenly grew shy at your expecting eyes, but I twisted around and pulled the rim of the back of my shirt downwards for you to view the full drawing clearly. Pride swelled within me when you craned your neck to see and nodded to yourself, the grin on your face portraying the genuine awe you had.

"Amy, this looks amazing," you praised, walking behind me to admire the shirt better. "I like this a lot. I'm glad you took the time to make it for me."

Your praise mattered a lot to me that day, Axel. I put a lot of effort into creating the drawing for the shirt in order to impress you; the mountain of crumpled sketches in my trashcan speaks for it. The design was simple; a sketch of your face sideways in red and black to contrast the t-shirt's bright white, your name in a bold font circling the sketch. If I could, I would've given it more color, but I knew you would appreciate a more minimalistic design. And besides, I was on a tight schedule.

"Will you be wearing this to my next match?"

I gave you a look. "What makes you think I'll be going?"

"Because now we're friends," you stated simply, shoving your hands into the pocket of your jeans, and I couldn't help smiling. You looked up at the sky and I followed, observing the dimming light of the sun as it slowly fades away.

"It's getting late," I blurted out. "Are you not going home? You might miss the bus."

"You're still here."

"My dad's stuck in traffic. He won't be here for another half an hour, maybe? Not sure."

You hummed in response. "Then I'll wait for you."

"But what about you?"

"I can catch the next bus home, don't worry. Want to get something to drink? It's on me."

I don't think I ever stopped smiling that day. You were determined to wait with me despite my weak attempts to shoo you away, bringing me to sit with you on a bench as we talked. I remember how your posture eventually relaxed as we delved deeper into our conversation, your voice like silver as words streamed out of your lips, and the way your eyes never strayed from mine, always paying attention to me. You were such a sweet friend to me despite the recent blooming of our friendship and I couldn't help but felt touched at the amount of care you had given me that evening.

And I think that day, I realized that I might have liked you more than I originally planned.

 **Your friend and biggest fan,** **Amy.**

P.S. I never lost the ticket. I always kept it because you signed it, remember? I did it as a joke, but the way your face lit up in amusement never fails to make me smile. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are very welcomed.
> 
> do follow me on wattpad and tumblr, @daedaliaaan.
> 
> hope you enjoyed.


	6. I've always loved our ramen dates.

**I've always loved our ramen dates.**

It's been a while since I visited the quaint, little ramen shop we used to go to back then. I did go alone once, after you left me, only because the rain was pouring violently and I had forgotten my umbrella at home as I usually do. It felt weird at that time, standing in the rain in front of the shop, only to look to my right and see you weren't there. It made me extremely anxious as I stepped inside, feeling twice more upset with myself at the quizzical look the chef gave me upon seeing me enter completely drenched and without you.

He had asked me kindly of where I've been these days and how I've been doing and where you were. I didn't know how to tell him that I've purposely avoided the place because it held too much memory of us, that I've been doing horribly and that you were away and would not be coming back anytime soon. So I gave him a weak smile and lied - sputtering lies as I've constantly been doing whether it be to myself or to the others to hide, hide and hide my growing pain like the coward I am because I miss you.

I really miss the ramen, but it doesn't exactly taste the same without your presence. It doesn't feel quite the same compared to when you would eat with me on the table farthest to the back, because you said to me about wanting privacy just for the two of us, and I remember teasing you for wanting me all to yourself. We used to talk about everything and nothing during those days at the shop, duck spoons grazing against the surface of the broth and chopsticks stirring noodles. I can't ever forget the chopstick fight we had that one time for the last piece of chicken that ended up flinging my chopstick underneath the table next to us and the chicken laying pathetically on your shoe.

I still remember your favorite -  _tonkotsu_  ramen with exactly three shakes of spicy flakes - and the look of offense when I told you the reason as to why I would order anything but  _tonkotsu_.

"Amy, pork is amazing," you argued, a clear look of disbelief on your face. "So you're absolutely not allowed any pork at all?"

"My dad would sneak me some bacon when he can," I grumbled. "But my mom thinks that eating a single slice of pork would instantly increase my cholesterol and gain diabetes. But I don't exactly complain. They don't taste good anyway."

"Unacceptable. Here," you raised your chopsticks with a thinly cut meat in between. "Eat."

"It's your meal, I can just stick with my  _gyoza_ ," I barely finished my sentence when you had pressed your chopsticks onto my mouth and I had no other choice but to accept, chew and swallow. You raised an eyebrow, waiting, and I remember sighing in satisfaction.

"This tastes decent."

"Really?"

"...Okay, what the  _fuck_ , this is great."

"I told you so."

"But I'm still not ordering your dish," I mumbled, ears red from embarrassment at how easy I was swayed into an agreement.

You smirked. "But I was right." I glared at you, refusing to admit defeat, and childishly sticking my tongue out at you.

When you told me to pack up and follow you out one day after school, I honestly didn't expect it at all. I was barely conscious that afternoon, half-asleep on my desk with my remaining three brain cells from the surprise math seatwork we were gifted during the last period.

"Where exactly are you taking me?" I asked, swinging my bag back and forth. "Perhaps you plan to kill me, and you're taking me far, far away so you can hide my body and get rid of all evidence."

You looked at me in amusement. "I am not going to murder you, Amy."

"Aha! That's exactly what a murderer would say. Suspicious." I exclaimed, earning a small grin to blossom on your face. "We're getting ramen," you finally told me, in which I let out a hearty yes.

I remembered walking into the shop for the first time and sitting down at what became our usual booth far at the back near the window. There was a nostalgic look in your eyes as you took in your surroundings - the clanging of metal, the chatter of men and the crackling of hot water as steam rose into the air like soft wisps of clouds. I was fascinated with the authenticity of the shop and how homey it felt, but my chest felt tight with nervousness as I sat in front of you, trying my best not to stare at how your eyes trailed around the room, deep in thought.

"This place - it brings back good memories."

That caught my attention. "How so?"

You paused at the question before chuckling to yourself with a shake of your head. "Back in middle school, a friend of mine would drag me and Jude to a ramen shop just like this one after soccer practice."

"Jude as in, student council Jude? Our Jude?"

"Yeah, him. And Mark, but he goes to a different school now."

"Mark?"

"An old friend," you replied. "He goes to a school in the East district now, so we don't get to meet up as often as we used to."

I've always had a soft spot for your friend Mark Evans. He was so perky and animated - like, how could you not like the guy? When you told me about him and how he was in middle school, there would always be a soft fondness in your eyes. You told me of how he relentlessly chased after you, urging you to join the soccer club and how you eventually did (you were never one to ignore when someone comes to you for assistance, no matter how long you try to deny them, you'd always do at the end).

You talked about the silly things Mark would get you and the rest of your friends into, of how loud and terribly optimistic he was, but also of how kind he is to others and his positivity that seemed to be contagious and unavoidable. And that I can agree with. Although he tends to be overwhelming, he was always trying to make me laugh when I was at my lowest - and with little effort, because Mark was a ball of sunshine and he will always find a way to make a person happy (he literally dragged me out of my room to the arcade with him and the rest of the gang, and my day slightly brightened up despite your absence).

"That's sad. But you still meet up once in a while, right?"

"We do, occasionally."

"That's actually cute," I teased, treating myself to the lonely piece of  _karaage_  on the small plate between our bowls. "It's like you three went out on ramen dates together. So, what, is this a date?"

I, honest to god, had no fucking clue why I said that. I think I found it funny at that time and I was beyond relieved to hear your chuckle as well as you took the tease. If I were as enamored as I am of you now back then, I could've combusted in giddiness at your answer. At that moment, I was only keen and desperate to not make a fool of myself and act casual which meant making fun of the moment.

"Sure, if it makes you sleep at night," you retorted, and I huffed in annoyance playfully at your remark. But it helped set a casual and light mood as we ate that evening, enjoying each other's company as we chattered.

I think I got a little carried away writing this letter. I still got a lot more to say, but I guess I'll stop here. I have a lot of memories of ramen and you - like the couples discount voucher I've kept all this time, the one we got after the first few visits to the shop and the chef came up to us, winking, as he slipped the vouchers with our bill. We had looked at each other and laughed aloud at the absurdity of the idea of being in a romantic relationship. But look where we are now, Axel. Maybe the chef knew something we didn't all this time. I think so too because I'm sure he looked past my lies and saw how sad I was, alone in his shop, and gave me a sympathetic smile that made me feel as if my heart had been distorted. 

**Your designated ramen date, Amy.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are very welcomed.
> 
> do follow me on wattpad and tumblr, @daedaliaaan.
> 
> hope you enjoyed.


	7. Our friendship was as tight as Caleb's skinny jeans.

**Our friendship was as tight as Caleb's skinny jeans.**

And that's saying something, because you know how unbelievable those torture contraptions are. Not that he looks horrible in them – on the contrary, he looks amazing. I just don't understand how in the world Caleb gets into those things. Have you seen his legs? He has actual  _thighs_. Might I even say he actually has an  _ass_. It absolutely baffles me how the hell he finds those jeans comfortable enough to spend a whole day in it.

I guess in a strange yet endearing way, I see our friendship in that sense.  _Real_  tight. Not just between you and I, but with Caleb and Jude as well. You three were the least expected people I thought I would end up spending three years of high school with, but then again, I guess high school is about 'expecting the unexpected'. You were a good kind of 'unexpected'. The four of us were. And I quite like us a lot.

Recently, I have been going through my gallery of our dumb pictures together. I still have Caleb's random selfies plastered among the many images – yes, even his nostril close-ups. I also kept photos of Jude's face smothered in whipped cream and cake from that time we had a surprise birthday party for him. I remember the absolute  _horror_  on his face when Caleb slammed his face into the tiramisu cake we bought from the convenience store. Still have the pics of the food war we had with the remaining cake and chips, too. Oh, and I won't forget about the pictures I took of your defeat against Caleb in  _DDR_. Who would've thought the mighty Axel Blaze would be brought to his knees by a simple dance machine?

Looking back at these pictures reminds me so much of how grateful I am for the three of you. Truly. I don't think I could've gotten very far throughout high school without you guys keeping me sane from the ever piling stress and anxiety. And in all honesty? I like to think you guys wouldn't survive much without me, either. We needed each other. (I know for a fact you would've eventually lost  _your_ sanity dealing with Caleb's antics and Jude's thinning patience if it wasn't for me keeping all three of you in check.)

Here, you'll find the key chain I won for you – from one of those rigged grabby claw games back at the arcade. It was the very first time we had hung out as a group. I can easily recall Caleb enthusiastically dragging me and Jude by the arm to the arcade – "Come  _on_ , ladies, pick those feet up! I am  _not_ going to end this day without even checking out the new shooter games – stop rolling your eyes at me, Jude, I swear to god –" and you following closely behind, an amused look on your face. I'm not usually one to enjoy arcades, but I had a blast running around trying almost every machine with Caleb, watching Jude beat Caleb in air hockey and seeing you ace the basketball hoops. That day meant something special to us. It marked the day of a silent promise to be there for one another as a friend (and we sealed the deal with a fist bump and a goodbye).

I don't think I've openly expressed how much I appreciated you, Caleb and Jude for being part of my life. You guys have become part of my loved ones – like family, even. It doesn't help how overprotective you all are towards me (especially Caleb, for some reason). I have to admit, it can be a _bit_ overbearing sometimes. Besides, I already have one doting older brother at home and I'm sure as hell I really don't need another, but I knew your intentions were in the right place. They always were, Axel. I was just too stubborn at times to listen to you.

I know I don't talk about this whole shebang of feelings a lot in person to either three of you, especially about our relationship with one another. I mean, I guess I do talk about my feelings, sometimes. But I still kept some things unsaid out of fear of being completely emotionally vulnerable – like being stripped bare from everything that held me together for everyone to see. Some of my thoughts were what sheltered me from everything else. I knew I could trust you guys to be myself - but even being myself scared me. 

I didn't want you to think I was weak, but sometimes to be strong is to admit that I am weak – that was what Jude told me. It really isn't an easy task for me to do. And with your departure? I'm back to square one. But I am trying. I really am.

It's a bit hard to do now that I'm missing you. I miss  _us._ It's not right for me to just go on with my days as if nothing had happened - especially without you here. Even just as a friend - because above everything else and more, you were my best friend. 

You  _are_ my best friend, Axel. 

There's not a day I don't regret what happened between us before you left: the argument, the screaming, our tears. Sometimes I wonder if things would've been better for all of us if I just stayed out of everyone's lives and stayed out of yours – but then it makes me think of the things I would never had done and would never feel if I had done so.

And I hope you know that I would not even be half the person I am today without you.

**Your best friend, Amy.**

P.S. I fixed it for you. The chain is a bit loose on the star charm but I tried my best to glue them back together. It's a bit wonky now and I don't think it will be able to stick for so long. I really shouldn't be bothered by it so much.

(It's not that you would ever use it again, anyways.)

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are very welcomed.
> 
> do follow me on wattpad and tumblr, @daedaliaaan.
> 
> hope you enjoyed.


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